


Eggshells

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bitterness, Bittersweet, Bonding, Death, Depression, Developing Relationship, Drinking to Cope, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Family, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jealousy, Long-Term Relationship(s), Loss, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Slash, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Slash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 06:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14014374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: Shizuo has barely seen Izaya over the past few years.





	Eggshells

Shizuo has barely seen Izaya over the past few years. This was when the informant started seeing Shiki ‘properly,’ when they moved in together and the whole town knew about it, half of them gossiping and the other half afraid of doing even that. Izaya suddenly didn’t have time for winding Shizuo up any more. Shizuo wondered if this was for Shiki’s benefit, or if Izaya was genuinely no longer interested. Then Shiki had died and Shizuo, along with everyone else, saw even less of him.

It is frightening that something so terrible could happen to someone his own age, but of course these things must happen all the time, to everyone. Worse things. Shizuo remembers running around with Izaya at school, hating him, them and all of their classmates oblivious to what could come, death and divorce and sickness and God knew what else. Of course, they all knew about it in an abstract sort of way, but you never think it could come now. Both of them are still in their 20s.

Shizuo had run into Izaya just after Shiki’s death, in the street with Shinra, and cursed himself just for being there, not wanting to add to Izaya’s troubles, but Izaya’s eyes were so dull and distant he barely seemed to register who it was.

Shinra tried to persuade him to come to lunch.

“I can’t,” he had said. “I need to pick a coffin.”

And it was then, Shizuo thinks, that the dynamic shifted. Shizuo had felt sorry for Izaya as soon as he heard, of course he had: he knew they lived together, knew they were practically married, but seeing him in person, seeing how much pain he was in, hit home with him. The fact that Izaya is his mortal enemy became irrelevant.

Shinra is also moved.

“Do you want us to come with you to - to the funeral place?” he offers.

“You have to pick them out of a catalogue,” Izaya says, in the same flat tone. “Like buying a new refrigerator.”

He pushes past them and goes home.

Shizuo puts his money in with the others to get Izaya flowers. Shinra takes Izaya food and calls him, encourages everyone to talk to him if they see him, even Shizuo.

“People were scared of Shiki because he had all this money and power, and now Izaya’s inherited it all. So they’re scared of him. And he wasn’t exactly popular in the first place.”

According to Shinra, Izaya has sold off or given most of Shiki’s assets to Kine and other trusted partners. Whether his ambition had always had a ceiling, or whether he simply couldn’t be bothered now he was alone, was anyone’s guess. Izaya can afford not to work. Shizuo wonders if he works anyway, or if he’s slowly going crazy.

“Speaking to me won’t exactly cheer him up," Shizuo protests.

“He won’t care, Shizuo, honestly. He’s way beyond old fights. Anyone is better than no-one.”

Shizuo doesn’t see Izaya around, though. He doesn’t see him for a long time, and if it weren’t for updates from Shinra - who forces Izaya to let him in and takes him food - he would think Izaya was dead as well.

-

Izaya shows up unannounced one day at a hotpot. He is invited to things all the time, by all of them, but they nearly always got the same response: _No thanks, sorry._ That, or he didn’t respond at all.

So they are tucking into their food when someone knocks at the door, and Celty comes back with Izaya, who has a tub of little cakes under his arm for dessert.

“Sorry I’m late,” he drawls.

Shizuo suspects Shinra has forced or begged him to come, because he looks bored and tired and miserable the entire evening, although he is clearly making an effort.

“He seems OK,” Erika offers when he is gone, and they all murmur agreement, except for Shizuo, who thought he had looked like he wanted to die. Shizuo shows up at everything he is invited to going forward, on the off chance that Izaya may come. He thinks he can be someone Izaya could relax and be quiet around when the mob became too annoying, someone he wouldn’t have to force awkward small talk with, someone he wouldn’t have to answer well meaning but tedious questions. It’s not like Shizuo enjoys socialising so much himself.

Izaya seems to appreciate this unspoken truce. He catches Shizuo’s eye one night at a bar, both of them so bored it hurts.

“I’ll bail if you will,” he says.

Shizuo blinks. It is the first thing Izaya has said to him directly in two years. He agonises. On the one hand, Shinra will kill him. On the other, he is bored senseless and so is Izaya. But the whole point of this is to get Izaya out and socialising and somewhat normal again.

“You want to go home already?” Shizuo hedges.

“Nah. Let’s go somewhere with better sake.”

This is an irresistible idea. He is only here for Izaya’s benefit, after all.

“Shinra’s gonna kill me,” Shizuo says, once they’re seated in another new bar, and instantly kicks himself for his choice of words. _Stupid insensitive fucking brute_.

Izaya however is calm.

“Text him,” he says. “Tell him you’re babysitting me and that I don’t look suicidal.” He glances up and sees the look on Shizuo’s face. “Saying things like ‘kill’ and ‘dead’ doesn’t change anything, Shizu-chan.”

“I know, I know,” he says, blushing. “I just - it seems so tactless. I didn’t mean it.”

“Aren’t you sweet.” He gives a familiar little smirk. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Oh come on. Just because you’re a jerk doesn’t mean everyone else is.”

The inner mental foot goes to kick him again, everyone’s chiding to _be nice to Izaya!!!_ ingrained into his brain, but Izaya is smiling all over his face.

“Yeah, but I’m a _grieving_ jerk, so shut up and buy me another drink.”

It’s a surprisingly painless evening.

-

They slope off together a few times after that, when they’re somewhere boring or somewhere with too many or too few people.

“It’s their eyes,” Izaya says one night. “Even sometimes when I’m in a relatively good mood, they look at me like a dog missing a leg. I know they mean well, but still. Shinra’s all right, but the rest of them depress me like you wouldn’t believe.”

It is a relief for Shizuo when Izaya tells him such things, because it gives him cues for his own behaviour: he has no idea how to treat Izaya, has no idea how to treat anyone in this situation, of what is patronising and what is helpful, of when he should say something or when he should shut up. The only funeral Shizuo had ever been to was his Grandad’s, and he had lived far away and never been close to any of them. His Mother had sniffed through the funeral but gone back to work the next day, chided him and Kasuka to do their homework that evening. Shizuo has never seen anyone suffer like this before. Shinra goes on at Izaya for withdrawing and locking himself up too much, but Shizuo thinks he’s actually doing pretty well: if he had been in Izaya’s situation, he would have killed someone by now.

-

Christmas comes, and Izaya stops showing up. Shizuo’s worried, but Shinra is in touch with him and reassures Shizuo that he’s all right.

“Christmas is just hard for him, he can’t be bothered coming out.”

Shizuo wonders if their relationship has evolved to a stage where he should call Izaya himself, but he is a coward and he doesn’t.

Izaya eventually comes out for new year’s drinks in Shinjuku. He doesn’t look great, but he doesn’t look as bad as Shizuo feared either.

It is too loud in the bar, with too many people. Shizuo keeps trying to catch his eye, but he looks a little out of it. Shizuo gives up and leaves him be.

At some point before midnight, he sees Izaya sneak out. He follows, a little hurt that Izaya hadn’t come to him like he used to when they were mutually bored. Perhaps he just wanted to be alone.

Shizuo thinks this, yet he finds himself criss crossing through the crowds to Izaya’s neighbourhood anyway. He hasn’t seen him for a while.

Izaya lives in a different district now, where he’d lived with Shiki for over a year, but he still has his apartment here that he used as an office, and Shizuo reckoned the bedrooms were probably untouched.

He’ll just knock, maybe have one drink, and they could talk shit like they usually did. The informant could be in bed or in the bath, but Shizuo still has to try. He can send a text if Izaya chooses to ignore the door.

He finds Izaya not in his apartment but outside it, on the floor against the wall with his knees up, head down, a bottle at his side.

He is not crying, as Shizuo had thought. He is very, very drunk. Shizuo curses himself, wishing he had kept a better eye on him. What the hell had the others been doing?

“Izaya,” Shizuo says gently, and the informant’s eyes open and glaze over him, unfocused. “It’s OK. I’m gonna help you.”

Izaya’s keys are at his side, as if he’d tried to let himself in and decided it was too much effort.

Shizuo unlocks the door and takes Izaya in his arms. It is like lifting a child. He carries Izaya up to bed and places him on it, taking his shoes off before pulling the blanket over him.

A clumsy hand grabs his own.

“Shiki?” Izaya mumbles.

Shizuo stares at him with the most compassion he’s ever felt.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

He stays next to Izaya, holding his hand until he’s sure he is asleep.

Fireworks start shrieking outside, and Izaya doesn’t even stir. Shizuo gets up and closes the curtains to block out their light.

He goes into the corridor for the bottle and pours the rest of it down the sink. Goes back to Izaya’s room and puts a wastepaper basket next to the bed. He wonders if he should leave something, a note, maybe, but he can’t decide if knowing someone had been here with him would make Izaya feel better or worse. In the end he leaves him with nothing.

-

Izaya seems more normal after the holiday period. He starts coming out again, starts snarking at Shizuo again, either in the group or in their private little after-parties, and sometimes Shizuo almost forgets there is anything wrong with him at all.

Shizuo goes to meet him and Shinra for coffee one day, to help Shinra plan what to get Celty for Valentine’s Day, something he took ridiculously seriously. Shizuo had thought such romance would upset Izaya, but apparently not. Shizuo is still learning where the lines are drawn.

He arrives last, and sees Shinra looking oddly pleased with himself, and sees Izaya at a separate table with a stranger. It takes him a moment to realise that the stranger is flirting with him.

Shinra jumps up and grabs Shizuo’s arm when he moves to intervene.

“Leave it,” he says. “It’ll be good for him.”

“How do you know? He doesn’t look very happy about it.”

This isn’t quite accurate. Izaya looks more confused than unhappy, like he’d forgotten that there were other people in the world and that this is something they generally did.

Shizuo takes the seat opposite Shinra, annoyed.

“You set this up? You’re unbelievable.”

“I didn’t set anything up,” Shinra protested. “Izaya got here before me. They must have just got talking. Izaya’s a good looking guy, after all.”

“This guy just came over and just started talking to him?” He growls. “Who does that? This isn’t a Hollywood movie.”

“Shizuo,” Shinra says, exasperated. “Izaya’s a grown man. Believe me, he’s still capable of telling someone to fuck off if he feels like it.”

Izaya doesn’t tell the man to fuck off. He gives him his phone number.

“Who was that?” Shinra asks brightly when Izaya comes to their table, raising his eyebrows at Shinra’s overeager expression.

“I dunno,” he says. “Some guy. You didn’t pay him to do that, did you? Because you could have got somebody better.”

Shinra laughs him off, and they change the subject.

Shizuo tries to put it out of his mind. He can’t help hoping nothing will come of it.

-

Perhaps it is his imagination, but Izaya is around slightly less after this encounter with the flirting stranger. He might have started seeing the guy, or the thought of someone else might have depressed him enough to withdraw again, or maybe Shizuo’s just crazy. Izaya refuses to tell Shinra about the man, so they are all in the dark.

When Shizuo eventually manages to get Izaya on his own after dinner with the others, he asks him outright, and Izaya doesn’t seem to mind.

“There’s nothing to tell. We went out, we had another coffee. I told him everything. He was very nice about it. He’s only in Tokyo for a month, so it actually works out quite well. I don’t mind trying something casual. Anything more and I’d ruin the poor man.”

-

A month passes, and Shizuo doesn’t hear about the guy again. Not that it matters.

-

They grow closer in this time. They go out for coffee or tea, sometimes _drink_ -drinks but usually something warm and comforting. They find quirky, off the beaten path places that none of their friends know about., some cramped and terrible, some secret and delicious with amazing views.  They people watch as they talk. It makes Shizuo feel like he is getting to know his city all over again.

Shizuo finds himself tearing clippings out of Time Out magazine, or snapping photos of interesting looking places he passes on his phone, but it is normally Izaya who finds the best spots.

A particularly good one is a roof level cafe above an Antiques store, hidden away from the rest of the city.

Shizuo wonders if Izaya had come here with Shiki, but he says,

“No, we never really went out for coffee. Dinner lots of times. We went from casually fucking to pretty much living together, so we sort of skipped the dating part.” He pauses. “Thanks for letting me talk about him. I know it can’t be very comfortable to listen to, but I like talking about him. People get so embarrassed, like they expect me to burst into tears or something. It hurts to talk about him, but not as much as not talking about him, if you know what I mean?”

“You can talk to me about him,” Shizuo says. “You can talk about anything you want. Or burst into tears, I don’t mind. I might say something stupid, though.”

“Ah, death’s weird, I don’t think there are any stupid things you can say. All of it is stupid.”

Sometimes they go to Shizuo’s place. Shizuo has finally found the motivation to keep it tidy.

They have an unspoken agreement to not go to Izaya’s office, as he rarely spends time there now, or the home Izaya had shared with Shiki, because it is just too intimate and depressing.

Shizuo has only been there a few times. Izaya had cleared out most of Shiki’s possessions, but there is at least one thing of his in every room: his Buddhist shrine and incense in the hallway, his slippers in the bathroom, his diary with his initials on it in the bedroom, his spare car keys in the living room, even though Izaya had given the car to Shiki’s old bodyguard. All these odd tidbits lie around the house as if forgotten, or as if they were as part of the house as the light fixtures, unable to be removed.

Izaya keeps the shrine clean and polished, but the incense sticks look like they haven’t been lit since Shiki last prayed here.

“Was Shiki very religious?” he asks Izaya tentatively.

“A bit. Spiritual’s probably a better word. He never really talked to me about it because he knew I wasn’t into it. But he really loved that old thing. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out.”

It makes Shizuo feel like an impostor in someone else’s home, seeing these belongings. If Shiki could see them now, Shizuo wonders if he would hate him, or if he would be glad that Izaya has someone there for him.

They normally go to Shizuo’s anyway, especially when Izaya is having a bad day. Shizuo will make Izaya a strong coffee or tea, depending on his mood, and they’ll sit there sipping it and talk. Sometimes they watch a movie.

“This is good tea,” Izaya comments one day. “Is it new?”

“It’s Shincha,” he says. He’d bought it specially. He wanted Izaya to like coming round.

Izaya whistles, impressed. “Very nice.”

They sip in silence for a moment, savouring it.

“Have you been thinking of dating anyone?” Izaya asks him suddenly, quite out of the blue. Shizuo supposes it isn’t fair to talk about Izaya’s problems all the time.

“Not really,” he says vaguely.

“Not really?” Izaya repeats, eyes gleaming, and he almost looks like his old self. “You’ve kept that quiet. Who is she? I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“I can’t, I really can’t,” Shizuo says, blushing to the roots of his hair, feeling stupid.

“It’s someone I know, right? Is she married or anything like that?”

“No, but...it’s not right. It’s not the right time.”

“Oh, come on. Just ask her out for coffee. It won’t kill you.”

“We’ve had coffee,” Shizuo says carefully. “As friends.”

“Well there you go, you’re halfway there. Ask her to dinner. It doesn’t have to be weird. If she’s not into it she’ll just say so.”

Izaya cites a list of good restaurants he likes, that he promises to text Shizuo, a text Shizuo saves and never looks at again.

“Tell me how it goes, OK?”

-

The second anniversary of Shiki’s death rolls around, and Shizuo calls Izaya to check on him and gets no response. So he follows his gut and goes to the cemetery. He knows which one Shiki is buried at, and he can just follow the dates to hopefully find the right one. Izaya could go there at any time, he might not even go at all, but it is worth a shot.

Shizuo is hoping it will be one of those quaint little places that were little more than a churchyard, but it is a vast cemetery, thousands of dead people around him. He follows the signs, turns back on himself, gets lost twice, comes across a young couple studying together against a tree, an older couple arguing while their bored looking child looked on, an elderly lady kneeling at a grave while her family wait in the car, but no Izaya.

Shizuo’s heart lurches when he finally sees him. He struggles to remember his excuses.

_Didn’t mean to pry...just wanted to see if you were OK - not OK, obviously you’re not OK , but if you need anything…_

His thoughts tamper off as he approaches Izaya. He is leaning against the side of the grave with his eyes closed. There is an unfinished bottle of sake in his hand.

Izaya opens his eyes when Shizuo reaches him, wincing in the sunlight.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he says.

“...are you sure?” Shizuo says, unable to think of anything more tactful. This is the second time he’s seen Izaya like this, after all. The second time in a few months, that was only counting the times he knew of. But as Izaya struggles to his feet, Shizuo sees he isn’t that far gone.

“I’m sure,” he says, looking shame-faced. “I don’t have a problem. Today’s just a bad day. I’m going to throw this out.”

He gestures at the rest of the bottle.

“I can throw it out for you?”

“Sure,” he says, handing it over.

Shizuo swallows, not wanting to leave him.

“K. I’ll, um, leave you to it. Call me if you need anything.”

“...Shizuo?”

Shizuo turns back hopefully.

“Um, you can wait for me if you want? I’ll only be a few more minutes. There’s a bench over there. We could go and get coffee?”

“Sure,” Shizuo says, relieved.

He empties out the sake on some grass away from the graves, and pushes the bottle into the trash. 

-

The anniversary passes, and Shizuo hopes that will be the end of Izaya’s current dark place, but the next time he sees the informant he is worse. He is at Izaya and Shiki’s home - he still can’t think of it as just Izaya’s home - for they’re now at a stage when they could call each other and show up to see each other whenever they felt like it.

Izaya tries to brush Shizuo off, but lets it all out when that doesn’t work.

“He didn’t even like me that much, y’know.” His voice is hard. “He was only with me because he felt sorry for me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Shizuo says quietly.

“He found me when I tried to kill myself,” he says. “It was just after we’d had sex, so he probably thought it was his fault. He looked after me and wouldn’t let me go home. That’s how we got together properly. Before that it was just sex in his car. It was horrible.”

Shizuo says nothing. He had assumed it was perfect, all romance and true love or something close to that. He wonders if this made it easier or harder, or if it made no difference at all.

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t care about you,” Shizuo says. “Maybe not at first, not so much, but he could have easily fobbed you off onto a nurse or even some kind of facility when he found you. He wouldn’t have taken you into his home and stayed with you for two years if he didn’t care about you.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Izaya’s eyes are shining.

“He wouldn’t have.”

Shizuo moves next to Izaya and puts an arm round him, and Izaya cries in front of him for the first time.

-

Still not in the best of places, Izaya shows up at their next group outing with a ring on his ring finger. No-one else seems to notice.

“That’s a nice ring,” Shizuo says.

“Thank you.”

There is something about the cold way he says this that tells Shizuo to not pursue it.

Izaya wears the ring all the time after that.

-

Izaya doesn’t cry in front of him again, doesn’t seem to have any alcohol issues, but he never takes the ring off. Shizuo doesn’t know why this disturbs him. He checks Izaya’s cabinet sometimes when he’s in the bathroom, but the bottles are always untouched. Shizuo cannot put his finger on what doesn’t feel quite right.

They are having tea one day when Izaya’s face whitens so suddenly Shizuo thinks he’s ill.

“What is it?”

“My ring,” he says, gripping his now bare digit with his other hand. “I’ve lost it.”

Shizuo doesn’t panic. He’d seen it on Izaya’s hand moments ago, therefore it must be in the apartment. He tells Izaya this, and they get searching.

Shizuo finds it within five minutes of crawling around, nestled innocently on the rug.

Izaya actually hugs him when Shizuo presents it to him, as if the ring were a missing child.

“It’s because you’ve lost so much weight,” Shizuo tells him, not for the first time. Izaya had lost this weight when Shiki first died and not bothered putting it back on. He had stopped wearing rings on his forefingers for this very reason. In a way it’s lucky that he hadn’t lost the ring sooner, somewhere other than his living room.

“My clothes still fit, just about” Izaya had always argued, as if this was the most important criteria, but he looks thoughtful now.

“Can you cook?” he asks Shizuo, rather randomly.

“No.”

“Me neither. Shiki could. I’d clean. I’ve been living on salads, soups and take out since.”

“No wonder you’re so skinny. Skinnier.”

Izaya twists the newfound ring round and round his finger.

“Maybe I should get it adjusted.”

“Or maybe you should eat more until you’re a healthy size.”

This is not a new topic between them. Whenever Shizuo chooses where they get take-out from, he tries to make it somewhere... not unhealthy but at least gourmet, hoping it will help, but of course one meal now and then isn’t going to make a difference.

Izaya isn’t listening. He sees Shizuo looking at the ring, and something, perhaps Shizuo’s finding it for him, perhaps the relief alone of finding it, makes him open up.

“He didn’t propose to me,” Izaya says. “I found it in one of his drawers a few weeks ago. I must have missed it when I was clearing out his things. This little box in a corner. It could be old. Maybe he offered it to someone else once. Or maybe it was his mother’s. But it fits me, and I want to wear it.”

“It’s obviously for you,” Shizuo says, because he thinks this is what Izaya wants to hear, though privately he has doubts about whether it’s healthy to wear a wedding or engagement ring to someone who had been dead for over two years, regardless of who the ring had been intended for.

“Two years,” Izaya says, as if reading his mind. “Soon he will have been dead for longer than we’d been together.”

Shizuo doesn’t know what to say to this.

“You keep thinking it'll get better, but sometimes it's like it's getting worse. It's like you've been starving for ages and then someone tells you you have to go another day without food, another week, month, year, because that's your fucking life now. It gets unbearable.” He shakes his head with a bitter little laugh. “Sorry. Today is obviously going to be a maudlin one.”

“It's OK,” Shizuo says quietly.

“That’s kind of what got me drinking last time. Thinking about all these things we never got to do.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know. Travel around Russia. Adopt a cat.”

“You can still do those things,” Shizuo points out.

“But I don't want to,” he says with emphasis. “I'm just not interested any more.”

He refuses to discuss it further.

-

“Whatever happened with your girl?” Izaya asks him one night. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Oh, I never asked her,” Shizuo says vaguely.

“Oh, you,” Izaya sighs, like he’s genuinely sad. “I wish you would. You deserve it.”

“I still see her. It’s just not the right time.” Shizuo kicks himself, thinking Izaya will catch on, but his face doesn’t change. He is a lot dreamier than he used to be, a lot less calculating. Shizuo wonders if intense grief actually diminishes someone’s mental faculties, or if Izaya just couldn’t be bothered with that sort of thing any more.

The informant mentions that he might adopt a cat after all.

“Did you see that one they were advertising in the paper, the really old one missing an eye? That’s what I’d get, one no-one wanted, so he or she can have some comfort towards the end. It's not like I couldn't afford the vet bills.”

Shizuo, who had secretly been looking at adverts for kittens, doesn’t know what to say to this.

“Do you really want to deal with death again so soon?”

“Young cats can die too. They can get run over and all kinds.”

“I know, but still.”

Shizuo doesn't think Izaya should get an older cat. He thinks he should get one that will make him laugh, that will require attention and training and play and cuddles, and be around for a long time.

He thinks about saying this, but it is not his place: he doesn’t live here, they are not together, even though they spend far more time together for any level of friendship.

“I could get both,” Izaya says now, oblivious. “But then the younger cat would be really sad when the older one dies. I couldn’t do that. Hm. I guess I’ll think about it.”

Shizuo thinks about getting a kitten for him, but perhaps it’s not wise. What if he burst into tears? What if he called it Shiki? Or neglected it because of what it reminded him of? In a lot of ways, Izaya isn’t always all there.

It has been two and a half years, and Shizuo still sometimes caught Izaya’s lips moving when he was alone in the kitchen, and he’s convinced Izaya still talks to Shiki in his head. Sometimes he looks at Shizuo as if _he_ is the one who is not really here. That, Shizuo thinks, is the reason Izaya is oblivious to how much time they spend together, how well they understand each other.

“You need to date someone, Shizu-chan,” he says now and then. “All this care and affection is wasted on me.”

Shizuo had never liked Shiki much, but now he sometimes almost hates him.

-

One evening, when they’ve spent the day together and Izaya seems to be in a relatively good mood, Shizuo leans over and kisses him. He doesn’t plan this, doesn’t get nervous, it just happens, as naturally as him reaching for a glass of water when he gets thirsty.

“Shizuo,” Izaya says, gentle and sad. He does not seem surprised. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t have anything left in me.”

“Of course you do. You’re- “

“I don’t, Shizuo, believe me. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“But we can take things slowly, we can- “

“No. I’m sorry.” He gives Shizuo a hug. “I hope you don’t stop coming round, but I’ll understand if you do.”

Something inside Shizuo sinks. He hugs Izaya back even so.

“I’ll keep coming round.”

“Thank you.”

He shouldn’t have said anything.

-

Izaya reads a lot of books on loss and grieving. Well, he skim reads them, in case he’s missing anything. Apparently he’s not. The religious ones are the worst. Izaya has no problem with God, or the idea of God, in theory, but not when it’s supposed to offer some sort of comfort for this kind of thing, because there is no comfort. He prefers to acknowledge the truth, that there is nothing left of Shiki but a crumbling ideal and fading memories, that one day he will forget Shiki’s voice, will need to refer to a photograph to remind himself what he looked like, that worms will eat his corpse if they haven’t already and his bones will meld with the Earth.

He doesn’t remember any particular passage of any book prompting him to do this, but he finds himself thinking about things he _didn’t_ miss about Shiki. About fights they’d had, about silences and passive-aggressive conversations.

They didn't fight very often, but one occasion stung Izaya in particular, in which Shiki had commented, and Izaya doesn't remember how it came up, that he, Izaya, _won't be young forever_ , meaning you won't look the way you do forever, meaning you won't have the sex drive of a rabbit forever, meaning you'll lose your power over me, meaning I could get bored of you, meaning I might even have a little fun on the side. Except Shiki probably hadn't meant any of that, but Izaya had still snapped at him, and they had had the most pointless argument, which he came out of feeling worse as Shiki added 'oversensitive' and 'childish' and 'ridiculous' to his original insult. He remembers going to sleep with his back to Shiki, furious that he still hasn't been apologised to, with Shiki weary and exasperated on his side of the bed.

And Shiki had brought him tea in the morning and held him.

_“You are far too important to me to fight with.”_

Izaya is able to go through such memories in detail now without welling up, even painful ones. Shizuo would be proud if he knew, only Izaya hasn’t allowed Shizuo to come that close, has only cried in front of him once, and doesn’t plan on doing it again.

Ah, Shizuo. The kiss. He'd known it was coming, known it since the time Shizuo had suggested one time, as carefully as he could, that maybe they could have dinner.

"Sure," he had drawled, deliberately misunderstanding, and Shizuo had never mentioned it again.

He checks the time. He needs to go to his sisters’. Their annual school trip is coming up, and their parents were normally around to deal with it, but this year they are still away, and so his mother has asked him to do it.

_They’re hopeless, you know what they’re like: they’re bound to forget something or miss the train._

Like they were 7, not 17. But whatever.

His sisters know about Shiki. He knows from the way they had started staring at him after Shiki died, they way they looked at him over Christmas dinner when his mother had asked innocently, “Any girlfriends? This is your first Christmas with us in a while. We thought you might be seeing someone serious.”

And he’d said, “Nope, no girlfriends, not at the moment,” and he’d somehow managed to choke down the rest of his food under the twins’ gazes.

Neither of them said anything about it, but that night after dinner, when he’s sitting in front of the TV because it’s more socially acceptable than staring into space, when his mother and father are cleaning up and Mairu is counting her presents, Kururi comes in and sits next to him without saying a word, leans against him, and it gives him such a start emotionally that he nearly throws her across the room.

It’s two things, one that he hasn’t had much physical contact since Shiki, and two the surprise that he still has so much love in him. If Kururi notices him start, or that he doesn’t unstiffen for a good few minutes, she doesn’t say anything, and doesn’t move away.

Mairu comes in a little later to look for her, yawning and complaining of an impending food coma, sees them cuddled up and jumps to Izaya’s other side, also leaning into him. He doesn’t know if she understands on her own or if Kururi communicates to her via twin telepathy, but she stays quiet and takes his hand.

They fall asleep against him, and he too closes his eyes when he hears his parents come in and ‘awww’ over them. He has a shaky moment where he almost tells his mother, where he opens his eyes and says, _Please help me, I’m in terrible pain_ , but then Mairu wakes up and starts asking what Christmas movies they have on DVD, and the moment is gone.

That was Izaya’s first Christmas without Shiki. He and his sisters hadn’t had a bonding moment since. Izaya had spend the second Christmas alone, drinking, ignoring his phone and the door.

Shizuo doesn’t know about this, but he probably suspects, and Izaya had hated playing back his messages and hearing the hurt in his voice. Izaya does not want to think about his next Christmas, or the Christmases after that. Perhaps he should volunteer for a soup kitchen or something, remind himself that people in the world had real problems.

But anyway, it is summer now, he doesn’t have to think about Christmas yet.

He lets himself in to his childhood home and starts making them lunch for the trip.

They come in noisily, like they always do, chattering like birds, that is, not really expecting a response.

A little while later the volume drops, and he realises they are whispering, watching him from the table. They always do this when they discuss Shiki or anything related to him. Izaya supposes they think they are being discreet, whereas it would really be more polite if they did it at top volume, so he could offer his opinion and correct them where they’re wrong.

One of them clears their throat. He can normally tell which without looking at them, but what they say instantly empties his brain of all thought.

“Is it true that you lived with that Yakuza guy who died?”

Izaya looks down. His hands are still moving. He finishes wrapping up their lunches, puts them into the fridge and goes to his old room without looking at them once. His mouth tastes like copper.

They weren’t being cruel. They were just asking him, just confirming the facts. Maybe that was the reason they had kept quiet all this time, because they weren’t sure how much was rumour and how much is real, but that doesn’t stop the anger bubbling out of his heart.

_Two years!!! Where the fuck have you been? His secretary who hates him had been there for him more than they had. Two fucking years! It’s too late now._

Which is unfair because they’re practically still children, Shizuo and others didn’t know what to say to him, so how could two teenage girls? They don’t know anything. They don’t know how much it hurts to hear it out loud. They don’t know that it is Shiki’s money that will pay for their university tuition and their first apartment, or apart _ments_ if they decided to grow the fuck up.

He doesn’t come out of his room all night, and they don’t knock on his door.

-

He has an alarm set for the morning, prepared to chivvy them out of bed and do last minute bag checks and get them to the station on time.

But they are already out of bed and sat at the table with tea, in the same position as last night. If it weren’t for their clothes, Izaya would think they hadn’t moved.

“You’re up early!” he says brightly, like they’re six. They’ve already made breakfast, so he double checks they have everything and the time they’re meant to be at the station. He doesn’t even know where they’re going.

They get to the station in silence, and Izaya feels the need to say something, to not spoil their trip by letting this hang over them. However, just before they run off to meet their friends, they turn in unison and hug him hard, hard enough to hurt, and he hugs them back like he hasn’t seen them in years. Something happens inside him. It’s painful, but it feels good. It feels like he’s waking up.

“Do you want us to stay with you?”

“...what?”

He pulls back. It is Kururi who has spoken, but Mairu speaks up now.

“We don’t have to go. We can stay here with you.”

Izaya smiles, touched, no anger left in him.

“Thanks, but I’ll be OK. You go. Send me a postcard.”

“We will.”

They hug him again.

He feels better once he’s left them. He hopes they do too.

He puts a reminder on his phone to go back to the house and stock up the fridge the day before they get back. The ring slips halfway down his finger. He looks at it for a moment, takes it off and puts it in his pocket.

He doesn’t go straight home. It feels nice to be out for once. He wanders out of Ikebukuro station and into the main drag of town, hoping vaguely that he’ll bump into someone he knows. He can always go to Russia Sushi if not, or call Shizuo.

He’s weaving through the crowd when he sees Shizuo and Celty. He’s just about to raise his voice, when he hears his name. He stills as he hears two men discussing him.

“...such a waste, got all that money now but it’s like it means nothing. Have you seen the state of the guy these days? He might as well be dead himself.”

Izaya does not notice Shizuo stiffen. He does not know that something snaps inside Shizuo, that Shizuo does not remember punching the man, but sees him on the ground at his feet, feels the familiar sting of his knuckles and the stares of dozens of faces. Shizuo turns and bolts.

Izaya is running after him, but he doesn’t slow down. This is more than just losing his temper: he’s convinced he must have broadcasted his feelings to the entire world.

“Shizu-chan!” Izaya is still running after him. Shizuo knows he has no hope of outrunning the other man, so he stops trying.

Izaya catches up in the park, empty at this time of day, and starts laughing.

“Thank you, Shizu-chan, that was amazing,” he says, jumping on Shizuo from behind, something that would have delighted Shizuo at any other time. Izaya’s laughter alone is normally enough to lift his spirits.

“Why are you upset?” Izaya says, still wrapped around his back. He drops his legs to the floor and moves his arms down into a hug. “That was probably one of the most moral punches you’ve ever thrown, if I do say so myself. It should have got an applause.”

Izaya starts massaging his shoulders when he doesn’t respond, in a way that Shizuo is _sure_ is too intimate to just be friendly, but he doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes and leans into it and has to remind himself to breathe.

-

It is obviously not the best time for a coffee jaunt, so Izaya comes home with him. He keeps looking at Shizuo with an odd intensity in his eyes.

“What?” Shizuo says, too tired for eggshells.

“I just wanted to say sorry to you.”

“Say sorry to me?” Shizuo repeats, snapping out of his funk. “What have you got to say sorry for? There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Izaya kisses him. He keeps kissing him, until Shizuo forgets what they had been talking about.

“I’ve had my head a bit too deep in the sand,” he says, and Shizuo has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Are you sure…?”

“Mm-hmm.” He presses a hand between Shizuo’s legs. Shizuo notices he is not wearing the ring, hopes to God that he has taken it off willingly and not lost it again. “I think you are too.

He nudges Shizuo backwards until he falls into the couch, and kneels in front of him.

“Izaya, you don’t have to- “

“It’s OK, Shizu-chan.”

He takes Shizuo’s half hard cock out and slips it into his mouth. Shizuo groans above him, shaking with the urge to buck forward. Izaya sucks on him gently, getting used to the feel and the taste of him. Shizuo goes quiet. Izaya tilts his head up curiously, and this seems to break Shizuo’s willpower, as he thrusts forward into Izaya’s mouth. Expecting this, Izaya merely slackens his jaw and allows Shizuo to fuck his throat, feels a hand awkwardly caress his head, as if to apologise for being so rough. Not that he needs to. It feels wonderful.

Shizuo pulls Izaya up once he can think straight again, eager to move between Izaya’s legs, but finds his jeans wet, hardness long gone. Izaya laughs self-consciously.

“It’s been a little while.”

Shizuo hauls him up on the couch anyway, holding him, breathing him in. This is the most intimate thing they could have done, aside from actual sex.

“You still need to take that girl out for dinner,” Izaya teases, nuzzling him.

Shizuo takes a minute to remember what he’s talking about.

“Which place did you like the look of more, Miyama or Hidoku?”

“Mm, Hidoku first, say Friday. Miyama we can do another time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


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